Stoke
by Hanakage
Summary: Because your feet can only keep stepping forward for so long before your heart catches up with you. NarutoxSasuke


**Summary: **A little vignette-ish oneshot showing an introspective moment from when Naruto was off on his journey with Jiraiya. SasuNaru. (_Because your feet can only keep stepping forward for so long before your heart catches up with you._)

**Warnings: **Some angst (Naruto being, _gasp_, contemplative?!). Somewhat subtle onesided SasuNaru (meaning, _doublegasp_, boyxboy). I suppose you could kind of view it as just friendship (if you are partially blind in one eye and sort of tilt your head and squint). Don't like, don't read. It's as simple as that.

**Disclaimer: **As my name is not Kishimoto and I'm not wealthy, I don't own _Naruto_. If I did, Sasuke and Naruto would have long since admitted their undying love for each other by now, among other things… -cough-

**Notes: **There are a lot of pre-timeskip and post-timeskip stories, but I haven't seen many from _during _the timeskip. Thus, this was born. Naruto is about two years into his journey at this point. Enjoy.

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**Stoke**

The diminishing embers of the fire crackled and spit particles of ash into the cooling air.

Cerulean blue orbs watched the blaze, seeming to exhibit an ethereal glow as they peered out from shadows that the flickering firelight cast upon a tanned face. Naruto felt the radiating heat as if from a distance; it failed to permeate his skin.

He wondered if Hell was anything like this.

Rumbling snores from a few yards behind him blended with the cacophony of the forest; lost in the dissonance of hoots and howls and the quiet symphonies of crickets. With a grunt, Jiraiya shifted in his sleeping bag, breaking tempo until the familiar cadence resumed. The sound was punctuated with the occasional unconscious giggle (_manly_ giggle, mind you) that betrayed the undoubted content of the "researcher's" dreams.

Naruto barely heard it. After traveling in this manner for nearly two years, the Sannin's snores had long since faded into an almost calming backdrop for sleepless nights such as this.

Almost.

Desperately he wished the world would suddenly tilt backward on its axis, that time would reel back to when existence was simple. Back when he could still believe that _Sakura_, in all of her pink glory, was the embodiment of love and beauty. Back when the day's biggest frustration would be the agonizing wait for a smoky _poof_ to signal the appearance of a certain notoriously late sensei. Back when he and Sasuke were _dobe_ and _teme_, eternally at each other's throats, bickering in all their foolish semblances of pride and prepubescent bravado.

… _Because at least then demons were only skin deep and bridges were built, not burned and the bad guys always lost and _**he** _didn't haunt his dreams and all he wanted was to be Hokage, dammit _andohwhathadlifebecome?

Fleetingly, he mused if it was right to train children to be killers. If it was fair and just to burden them with ancient hatreds, to stain young hands with blood and imprint scars into unblemished flesh. A part of him wanted to cry for the childhoods that had been snatched away too soon—his own included. Yet he could not cry, would not cry, for he had willingly chosen this way of life, and would do so again if the world started over anew tomorrow.

That didn't stop him from wondering if ghosts could haunt people as long as memories and regrets.

Faint curlicues of smoke drifted up away from the campsite and towards the star-flecked midnight sky. On clear nights like this he hoped his friends could see the stars from wherever they were.

Most often he found himself wondering if Sasuke ever gazed at the stars.

A young man—he could no longer be called a boy—lost in his thoughts on a crisp autumn evening, he watched the flames dance, ignoring the painful light that burned into his corneas. Inside the blaze he could almost see Sakura's face, her expression of tearful hope permanently etched into his mind. He wondered if—no, he prayed—he would be able to look her in the eye when they met again.

_Because you can only swear to uphold a promise for so long before you question who you really made the promise to. _

(_Her or himself?_)

He'd sworn to bring Sasuke back no matter what. Over the past two years, amidst rivulets of sweat and blood, he'd asked himself countless times _why_ it was so damn important; why he couldn't go back on his word just once. Why he felt he had to "save" the very person that had ridiculed and mocked him for years—the one that had called him his best friend and then promptly ripped a hole through his chest. The rationalization that he should _hate_ the bastard only caused the infernal _why? _to resonate louder.

_Because you can only chase someone to the ends of the earth for so long before you truly ask yourself_ why.

He thought that he just might be starting to realize the answer.

Before his weary eyes, the pink locks grew black in the flames; emerald gave way to piercing onyx. Naruto's eyes snapped tightly shut, but **he **lurked behind his eyelids too. That face pervaded his dreams now. When the slate of his mind was wiped blank with oncoming sleep, the last thing he found himself envisioning was that day on the bridge so long ago—the fire in his veins sloshing with the unexpected, all-encompassing _hurt _of not recognizing that people were precious until they were gone.

_Because your feet can only keep stepping forward for so long before your heart catches up with you. _

The lead weights that were his eyelids rose, bringing the dark world into focus. The fire was nearly extinguished, and the image (_hallucination?_) had dissipated with it. His eyes traced the spiraling path of a clump of ash as it floated on air, landing on the back of his hand. So delicate and pale, it seemed out of place against his rough, tan flesh.

…And before he could comprehend it, he was envisioning how porcelain skin and raven-hued tresses would feel beneath his fingertips. Like a spark, realization—and with it, acceptance—ignited something deep within him, spreading warmth that the fire had failed to provide.

For the first time in so many nights, his heart felt lighter, if only by a few ounces.

He was still uncertain of _when_ or _why_ he had started to long for touches that he never imagined he would want; _how_ what should have been _hate_ had instead twisted into a different (and far more terrifying) four letter feeling without him even noticing. Nonetheless, when—it was never a question of if, but _when_—he got Sasuke back, the only thing he was absolutely and wholeheartedly _certain_ of was that he would not let him go again.

Slowly but surely, he was beginning to understand just how precious a precious person can be.

_Because you can only live in delusion for so long before you admit to yourself that you're in love. _

With the hours until dawn stretching out before him like a lifetime, Naruto threw another piece of firewood into the cinders, smiling.

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**A/N:** …So ends my first fic. It turned out a bit more angst-y than I'd originally intended, but there's a warm and fuzzy layer underneath. I hope it wasn't confusing... 

Please, please review and let me know what you think!


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